


forever is a long time

by JeanSouth



Series: forever is a while. [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AU, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires live a very, very long life that's better not to spend alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. humans taste delicious

“I don’t see a lot of vampires,” Himuro muses one afternoon. He’s borderline pretty, Atsushi thinks (and tells him sometimes); a tenant looking for a place close to the city to make it easier to get to his culinary classes. Technically, Atsushi doesn’t need someone to live with - he has a house in the country much larger that this, with a vault full of treasure he’s hoarded like a dragon over the centuries. Himuro is only human, though.

“Of course not,” Atsushi murmurs into his neck, trying to debate on whether or not to explain everything entirely. Beyond the rest of his coven and their long-gone maker, he knows quite a few vampires, but they’re hidden away elsewhere. It’s a miracle all of his coven are out of hybernation at once. “It’s hard to be a vampire.”

Warm hands pet his skin under the blankets they’re beneath together, trying to heat it like they always do. Atsushi’s chest breathes despite the lack of neccesity - humans are less weary when he looks like he’s breathing.

“Why?” Himuro asks him, used to having to pry answers from Atsushi. They’re from different times, really, but Himuro is a special kind of human that adapts. He’s even making an attempt at cooking food Atsushi can eat.

“A lot of humans like killing us,” Atsushi murmurs, distracted by Himuro’s neck. Sweet scars stand out; they spark his possessive nature and stir the need to mark Himuro again and again and again. “It’s easier to be a vampire pretending to be a human. But there aren’t that many, most humans don’t survive when they’re vampires.”

It’s a hard journey from human to vampire; without the right amount of (sometimes hidden) compassion and love for humanity, hatred could have driven them crazy. The lack of selfcontrol, lack of mental stability; he remembers a lot of almost-brethren that he’d lost before the six he has now came together. They’re all almost as old; no one’s counting the years.

“That’s a shame,” Himuro tells him, tilting his head back. Being with Himuro is nice and soothing; though Atsushi can’t remember human tastes he remembers a lot of things. Himuro tastes the way sunshine feels; all at once amazing and too hot, full of life and passion and something he needs. Gently he works his fangs into Himuro’s neck, rubbing soothing circles onto his waist.

After so many times, he doesn’t need to actively put Himuro into a state of enjoyment for bites; he slides into it himself after a moment. Atsushi can feel it when he goes limp and a little whimper leaves him. His fingers dig into the skin on Atsushi’s back, far from ever harming a creature like him.

Tomorrow’s an early day, so Atsushi only takes a little and closes the wounds with a few soft licks, keeping it up until all of the blood sluggishly leaking out is gone.

“S’good,” Himuro murmurs to him, still sleepy and sated from the bite trance; he snuggles up to Atsushi when he tugs him close easily. Humans are delicate - their necks are flimsy and their blood leaks out quickly, but Atsushi thinks Himuro’s spirit is made of steel.


	2. he tastes like rainbows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akashi/furihata.

Furihata is a little bit cute. He’s a brunette, not much out of the ordinary save for the tiny, finger-length bright white horn placed inconspicuously on his head. it’s mostly hidden in his hair, but the shine on it (like polished steel, almost) catches the eye fairly often.

The first time Akashi sees him, Furihata startles and stares and as a reflex, lets out a worried burst of power and temporarily blinds Akashi. His sense of smell and years of living in less than reputable places during the dark ages have already given him the ability to navigate without the use of his eyes, but shaky hands and an apologetic voice are everywhere around him.

“You’ll have to stay with me until my eyes have regenerated,” Akashi says smoothly, all quiet confidence full of conviction Furihata can’t deny. He can feel the gritty, horrible texture of the first layer of his eyes having been burned off, and he rubs at them irritably until Furihata pulls them away and scolds him. Akashi quickly gets the sense he cares a lot about the wellbeing of others.

Figuring him out was never hard - unicorns smell like fields of daises that birds sing in. Usually it grates on his nerves; it’s too much cheer any time of day, nevermind the mornings, but Furihata flits about him like a worried sparrow after Akashi’s driver drops them back off home (home being a rather large structure only a few hundred years younger than him).

“It’d be best if I fed,” Akashi suggests, sitting on the couch that he’s perfectly aware is there without his eyesight. His only regret is not being able to coax Furihata into the kind of pleasurable trance they’re all familiar with - the kind that spawns odd books about their kind. Before long he finds himself with a lap full of helpful unicorn that has a quick, racing pulse.

It makes him hungry, if he’s honest. Pure skin breaks easy under his fangs when they elongate, followed by a noise of not quite pain. Akashi can’t help a moan when he sucks out the first mouthful of blood.

Furihata tastes like rainbows. Akashi’s not sure how to describe the taste to someone who can’t share (and anyway, he wouldn’t share). It’s like colours and life explode all over his mouth, blood of a pure being willingly given. It slides down his throat like liquid fire that’s hot and cold all at once; before he knows it he has Furihata under him on the couch, trying desperately to ask him what’s going on.

Blood always flows sluggishly and he sucks hard, trailing his tongue over the twin holes as he feels his eyes heal slightly. Rather than a week, he assumes it’ll be a few days. 

Tearing himself away is a matter of pure will, but he makes sure to clean up after himself properly.

Afterwards he makes Furihata guide him to bed; sweet talks him into undressing them both and tugs him into bed before he thinks of protesting. Almost as if on instinct he snuggles in close to Akashi and buries his face under the covers; the sharp little horn scratches briefly at Akashi’s chest. He regrets a little bit that he can’t see this.

His eyesight comes back three days later, and he comes up behind Furihata with eager hands and soft, sweet kisses that involve no bites on his neck. A different kind of hunger stirs in him at the faint scars he can see up this close; he wants to leave dozens of them.

“Stay,” He says with the same amount of conviction as before (but now he notices that Furihata is a little taller than him). He gets a nod for it, and he starts going grocery shopping to feed someone that eats human foods.

Furihata likes dozens of kinds of cereals, and he opens a different one almost every day until Akashi gets a firm grasp on the situation, clears out a few cupboards and tells him no more until the rest are gone.

He gets sweet, pleading kisses in the aftermath, hands that skitter across his skin with confidence Akashi had never imagined would come so quickly. Furihata is comfortable with him; already and it’s amazing.

But in the end, it still doesn’t change Akashi’s mind on the cereal matter.


	3. a challenge is good for some.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kise/haizaki.

Kise comes across Haizaki in the middle of his campaign to end dragon pit fights. They’re cruel, seedy things on the underbelly of the supernatural world. For all dragons are powerhouses full of raw strength (the height of a pony and the length of two, made of hard steel scales and vicious teeth), they’re weak to magic - collared well when taken by suprise. 

Half the dragons Kise has ever met aren’t aware of what they are - when they’re in a human form they look no different to regular humans. Shifting between forms after so long as a human is hard, painful when forced by trigger injections. Learning to shift is a slow process, one pit masters don’t approve of.

Once, he’s already shut down the alpha rings - in the other rings other supernatural beings fight, but the alpha rings are purely the different breeds of dragons. Magic is prohibited and the fees to watch and bet are astronomical. It makes Kise sick. They merely moved their rings; he’s started to aim for the heads of the rings specifically. Take out the leader, and the kingdom will crumble, or at least diminish. Kise has been in his fair share of crime over his long, long life, but the passion for humanity and his fellow man has never let him hurt the innocent.

Haizaki is beautiful when Kise sees him.

He’s a steel type dragon, one of the strongest, most hardy types. All other dragon types are watered down from steel type dragons. The individual elements, and even the mix of two elements or more. Once, there was specific breeding to get individual elements. Times change.

There are cuts and bruises all along Haizaki’s scales, a tear in the soft underbelly where someone had got him. He fights with agression and passion, with a glint in his eyes that makes Kise feel like this on is constantly on edge - it’s a rare case where he can’t tell if the fighter is there of his own free will or not. Regardless of it, when the only joy is found in the alpha rings something is wrong.

He buys Haizaki.

It’s wrong - feels wrong, too much like slavery - and gets handed a dozen triggering syringes and wide grins for the amount of money he just handed over. Kise doesn’t care - he and his brothers and sister have plenty of rare artifacts that make money.

Haizaki lashes out at him the moment they get out of sight of the burly handlers.

Fingers that look human go for his face, and sharp teeth try to rip out his throat. It’s easy to hold him back, full of supernatural strength. They struggle back and forth for hours, but in the end he tires first and settles for sneering up at Kise in contempt.

He’s shaky for the rest of the week, full of anger that builds up and has no way to be let out. Kise hires him a kickboxing trainer. In his dragon form, fighting comes easily and naturally, but as a human it’s different, full of strange coordination and it tires him out quickly. He’s fast though, still tries to lash out at Kise when he has the energy left, and Kise smiles him down. 

Haizaki always smells like pent up anger, frustration and the sweat of a good workout before he showers. He uses Kise’s shampoo, smells like him and leaves to an unidentified guest room. Kise never follows him - the room he’s in is Haizaki’s safe space and he’s not going to breach that place. It becomes quickly frustrating though when he can smell Haizaki’s blood type - AB, earthy. Whenever he comes close enough Kise can almost hear his heart beat, he wants to bury his face in Haizaki’s neck and taste his blood - metallic tinge that tastes like the scent of freshly mown grass.

Before they even start talking, Haizaki asks to join a nearby kickboxing tournament in the amature rings. Training is all good and well, but going for another being is so much different. He almost gets disqualified for trying to instigate a fight outside of the ring, but he wins after Kise fixes it behind the scenes.

He’s less restless when they come home; still in shiny red shorts. The frustration is less, and he looks sated.

“Could I taste you?” Kise asks, without obligating anything. He’s hanging over the back of the couch Haizaki is slumped on, eyes closed so he doesn’t accidentally pull him into some kind of trance. There’s a heavy, put-upon sigh of a yes.

Pulling Haizaki into a trance isn’t hard - he acts on emotions and feelings rather than cruelly calculated plans, and falls easily into the depths of Kise’s eyes. Tasting him is like a reward he’s been waiting for for so long, and his hands knead patterns softly into Haizaki’s relaxed shoulders. His breathing is soft and slow, enjoying the experience. 

He stays on the couch when Kise is done, and doesn’t attack him in the morning.

A few weeks later, Kise hires another dragon as his mule to get into the pits and take out one of the alpha ring leaders; he mentions it and Haizaki punches him square in the face, so hard he bites off a little bit of his tongue and has to focus to force the flesh to sew itself back together.

“I could have done it,” Haizaki tells him when Kise finds him with a punching bag later - he punches it as if it’s Kise and he’d very much like to punch him again. There’s no bruise on Kise’s flawless skin, and it seems to piss him off more.

“But you’re too precious to use triggers on,” Kise says, fully expecting the reaction he gets - his face hurts for a moment and he doesn’t follow Haizaki. He’s not a liar, refuses to be a liar, even if his truth is confusing to those he inflicts it on.

Haizaki comes to him a few days later, all tense posture and sneering expressions.

“Make me change without triggers then,” He demands, and Kise feeds from him first. The sated, boneless relaxation is perfect. Kise carries him - easily - and puts him on the garden porch. He tells him a lot of things, what to think of, what to envision, and Haizaki starts to change but not quite. His tense disposition comes back before he manages to change and he slips back into a human form, but he looks more confused than angry.

It takes them a dozen more tries to get it right after a pleasant feed, but he does it. Kise thinks it must be easier to do it at any time when he’s done it once. 

The tenseness in Haizaki’s shoulders melt away the next morning in Kise’s bedroom - he looks tired, like he’s been trying all night - and his face elongates, his legs go shorter and thicker, turning clawed and lethal. The process happens in a split second, and if he hadn’t had stellar eyesight Kise thinks he might have missed it.

A low croon leaves the steel dragon in front of him, and it helps itself to being on his bed. Without words, without thoughts, dragon are simpler than humans. It curls up on his bed, and sleeps. Kise’s dead heart tries to skip a beat, and he has to admit it’s a good effort.

Haizaki accidentally kills a garden gnome the first time Kise goes out with him in dragon form, but it’s only a stone one and he can forgive it.

He’s still vicious, quick to anger, quick to forgive and comes back to him, but he’s changed a little. He loves Kise back.


	4. rules are arbitrary when you're immortal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> momoi/riko.

Their relationship is a little rocky, but it never crashes.

There’s tension now and then, conversations that consist of subtle jibes at eachother and praise for their own group of friends. They don’t really move in the same social circles - Riko’s is more sparkly, shiny goody-goody where Momoi’s leans more towards the evil side (based on stereotypes only, of course. Momoi doesn’t think anyone is more well meaning than their terrifying demon Sakurai).

“Kise gained a dragon,” Momoi says by means of conversation when she’s done with business overseas. She always comes home - Riko has a bakery close to their home that sells well, so she doesn’t travel much.

Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she indulges her nature a lot. Riko is down to earth, territorial and loves to lead a pack. She’s undeniably an alpha, guiding and pushing and pulling her pack in the best direction possible for them. Momoi remembers subtly running a different wolf out of the area before it came under Riko’s wrath.

“Why?” Riko asks her, carding her fingers through Momoi’s hair. It’s silky soft; she’s one of the only people with long hair either of them know or see on a regular basis. Riko starts a little braid in her hair, tugging the strands loose when she gets to the bottom. They have an aquarium at home, on Riko’s insistence, and the sound of the pump is soothing. At first they bought a puffer fish - it ate all the other fish (they learned after that).

“The same reason any of us choose life partners,” Momoi sighs, pleased for her friend. She turns to rest her chin on Riko’s tummy, nipping at the skin where it’s been exposed. Riko jerks under her, trying to get away from sharp fangs on instinct. At first, it was hard for them to lay down the age-long instinct of fighting (and they still do now and then).

Momoi nuzzles her way up Riko’s torso, to her collarbones then her neck. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and she tastes better on every bite.

Fingers still stroke through her hair, but they’re soft and purposeless until she’s done and rests her head. Their couch is big and wide - had to be after how often they fell asleep on it.

“Why don’t we have a daughter?” Momoi suggests a while later, when Riko’s at the perfect point between coherence and relaxation. Halfbreed kids - no matter what they’re half and half of - end up abandoned a lot, and not taken in. The bias towards purebloods runs straight into the old country, and despite the orphanage Kuroko and Kagami have set up, plenty of halfbreed kids don’t go to a good home.

A hum of agreement sounds from above her, and he glances up in surprise. It wasn’t meant to go this easily, but who would argue with good fortune.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Riko yawns, canine fangs standing out clearly. She curls to the side, protectively blocking Momoi in between her and the back of the couch. 

Momoi likes this kind of instinct.


	5. he can handle it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampire!kuroko/phoenix!kagami.

“You’re aware he could burn us alive, aren’t you?” Akashi asks Kuroko when he first brings Kagami along for one of the weekend dinner they have at Murasakibara’s place. They’re in his house a bit outside of the city this time, and he can smell foods suited for those of them that eat like humans, but he smell other things too. The scent of blood soup with eyeballs in them reaches him and makes his mouth water - it smells like it’s made mostly of rich troll blood with a hint of human in it.

“I’m fully aware,” Kuroko brushes him off though, turning to watch Kagami socialize with their other life partners. Kagami is old - maybe even older than them, but despite being originally also from Japan has spent a long time in America. His Japanese is flawless technically, but his manners leave a lot to be desired.

He’s everything Kuroko wants, though. Kagami is full of life and enthusiasm, rising early in the mornings and still held by simple excitement for things he loves. He’s not jaded - not like most of them, at least - nor bitter or hateful. Even when he wants to give up he doesn’t, he keeps going and pulls Kuroko along with him. At first, he’d been weary of being burned alive too.

When he’d mentioned it Kagami had protested with a smile and told him they were really almost the same - they’re rebirth. Kuroko died once, and woke up covered in dirt to find a new family waiting for him, and Kagami dies once every month in a fiery pire and wakes up equally dirty covered in soot. His firenight is soon, and it’ll be the first time Kuroko has experienced it. It makes him nervous.

Dinner is always a quiet affair - him and his brethren already know eachother, and it’s primarily a way to get their lovers to get to know eachother. Alpha male instincts clash over the starting course when Haizaki sneers at Sakurai again, and Kagami takes it on himself to step in and tell him to simmer down. Besides Sakurai, Kuroko doesn’t think any of them have a real chance to defeat Kagami, and Sakurai’s confidence may not be quite enough.

They argue, but settle down when Takao tells them to. Maybe he could win, too, but Takao doesn’t fight (at least, he says he doesn’t, but Kuroko thinks Takao may only be an angel still by pure luck and a lot of sly cunning).

Over dessert, Kagami bonds with Himuro and makes plans for the movies. Everyone else ends up in on the plans too, working around their busy shedules. At the moment most of them are between jobs - Himuro is looking for a place, Haizaki is too violent, and he’s fairly certain the rest of them would end in disaster despite their best intentions.

“Did you have fun?” Kuroko asks him when they leave, and Kagami’s body radiates heat despite the cold chill of winter and the ice on the floor. It melts around him - it’s an indicator of how much heat he has inside him.

He always almost burns Kuroko’s tongue when he feeds, and it makes him feel more human than hot showers or magic ever does.

Kagami’s fire is a beautiful thing. It burns blue and orange, starting before he knows it taking all of him in. It’s quick, but puts off heat like a bonfire and makes Kuroko understand why everything is layered in fireproof spells. Kagami disappears with the fire, and is there again after Kuroko falls asleep on the couch.

He tastes like the essence of life when Kuroko feeds, with a desperation that speaks volumes of how much he missed him, and he takes too much, just a little too much until Kagami stops him, kisses him, takes him and ends up covered in the blood leaking from his neck. Kuroko cleans him up.


	6. the littlest demon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampire!aomine/demon!sakurai.

Sakurai comes into the world by pure chance. 

The body he feels himself gain is almost the same as it was a few hundred years ago, when he sold his soul for protection from the plague and ended up in a much, much worse situation when he eventually died in his sleep a few decades later.

His hair is still brown, the mousey kind of colour it was when he was still a growing young man, and he’s still the same kind of height. His eyesight is good, but he feels power in him like he’s never had before, centuries of hell leeched into his soul ready to be harnassed for evil.

The warlock who summons him is an amature.

Sakurai kills him by accident. 

He ends up sprawled peacefully dead in the middle of the spell circles, control collar he should have woven into the spell left abandoned on the floor nearby. Sakurai runs, as quickly as he can, but the world is different to what it was back then, and the clothes he takes are unfamiliar.

The shop he walks into catches fire by accident when the power in him lashes out, and he knocks over a park into a pond and stops time for a moment to save some innocent ducks (and apologizes to them profusely in Japanese that feels odd on his tongue).

He almost dents a sleek, black car before arms grabs him, and feel like they wrap around his power too.

“Not my car,” A darkly tanned vampire almost growls at him, letting him go when he’s calmed down from his anxiety and not lashing out at everything around him.

“I’m sorry,” Sakurai apologizes, over and over again until a hand covers his mouth and he’s shoved in the car. The doors are locked and he’s told to shut up until they get back. 

“I’m Aomine,” The vampire tells him, all exasperated, lazy looks that speak volumes. Something in him feels older than most things still in existence and it’s an unsettling feeling that puts Sakurai on edge. He almost destroys the dashboard before power more controlled than his own whips it back into place as if it’s no effort at all. He can feel he’s stronger, but with no grip on it he’d never win (nor does he actually want to).

The house they come to is nice, lazily furnished in a way that looks like someone else did it after forcing Aomine to accept his fate. The couch is plushy and soft, more luxurious than Sakurai ever felt in his past life (or in hell, for that matter). It feels well stuffed, and dips to the side when Aomine sits next to him.

“Why aren’t you bound?” Aomine asks him, leaning back lazily. His arms end up above his head, over the back of the couch and his posture says asking is merely a formality, but Sakurai tells him anyway and feels better for letting it out.

“I’m sorry,” He says again when he’s done, and Aomine keeps him.

Aomine is naturally comfortable, a physical creature that drapes over him in the name of getting him used to people, and bites him when he’s not expecting it. He ends up with scars up and down his neck that stand out glaringly.

The first time Aomine kisses him, Sakurai shatters every bit of glass in the house due to pure shock and apologizes for an hour straight while Aomine painstakingly fixes them.

After that, he starts kissing him out of the blue more often.

“I think I’m used to it,” Sakurai tells him a little while later, when Aomine kissing him doesn’t make him want to run anymore. “You can’t stop.”

“Idiot,” Aomine calls him, nibbling little breaks in his skin to get at the blood underneath. “I like you.”

They don’t stop kissing.


	7. eternity's pretty great.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampire!midorima/angel!takao.

“Happy threehundred years together,” Takao says, coming up behind him to nuzzle at his neck gently. There’s a box of blood-chocolate covered spiders in his hands - Midorima’s favourite. His hands are still soft and full of life, with hot blood flowing in them.

Midorima turns, kisses him and takes them. He remembers their anniversary of course, but even a few centuries later, Takao is still incredibly embarassing about them. Now and then he goes back to heaven, and even if he won’t admit it, Midorima misses him. For a while, he thought Takao wouldn’t be back in time.

“Did you get that promotion?” He asks, straight to the point as he ever is, blunt and stubborn. Takao is more stubborn though - even after all this time, Midorima doesn’t know why he’s on earth to ‘think about what he’s done’. In terms of power, he knows Takao is strong - stupidly strong, moreso than any of the other angels he’s ever met.

“No,” Takao shakes his head, but he doesn’t look sad or bitter. A spark of glee is in his innocent smile - being an arch angel would be too much like responsibility, Midorima thinks. Warm hands rest on his waist and warm his skin until one of the spiders skitters a little. Takao catches it, feeds it to him with a smile and tugs him out of the house. 

The garden is warm, lit by faint lights to the gazebo. The food on it smells good - rich, raw steak still bleeding his sight; it’s as much as they can manage to eat without consequence. He thinks he sees Himuro slip away, but ignores it.

“Three hundred years,” Midorima sighs, and looks to the stars. He’s helped discover some stars, name some, and some of the very theories he’s studied in depth say that Takao is his best match. He thinks they’re right, really. The chair behind him is delicately shifted underneath him when he goes to sit down before Takao joins him.

Takao is handsome, smiles always and plays pranks on everyyone he knows. He’s full of passion, bright ideas, and sometimes he molts soft white feathers on the bed and Midorima wakes up with one in his mouth. He’s started using them to stuff a pillow; he gets a heavenly night’s sleep.

And he’s always thoughtful - he doesn’t tempt Midorima with food that’s bad for him, or tease him too much about touchy subjects. He likes to snuggle in the mornings and stay up late at night, or try to convince Midorima that his fear of heights is silly when he flies them high in the sky.

After dinner he loses himself to Takao and his hands, his mouth and his voice that’s full of love. Takao tastes like a thousand things at once, but really, he doesn’t care as long as he can taste it forever.


End file.
